


A Dark Night in Mexico

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya is the one usually portrayed as being gloomy.  What if Napoleon was that way.  Two Stories with the same premise but different endings :which do you prefer?<br/>Eventually published in YumYum Collected under the title  Mexican Standoff.<br/>Revised</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dark Night in Mexico

It was a hot and dreary night and the two agents were stranded in a dingy motel in a remote area of Mexico. The mission had gone badly and a young child had paid the price with his life.

 

The lighting in the bar was so dim you could barely see the glass in front of you. Solo sat alone at a table, chair tipped back and his legs propped upon the table. He was drinking …God only knew what, the choices being fairly limited. His suit had lost much of its nattiness and his tie was loosened enough so that the top button of his shirt could be undone. There was a bottle on the table, along with an ashtray, and he reached for it to refill his glass as he took a puff from his cigarette.

 

His partner was sitting nearby at the bar. He too was drinking, though not as much as his friend. He turned to watch as Solo took another drag of his cigarette and slowly blew smoke rings. “Have you ever thought about having children?” he asked. A strange question you might wonder, but on the heel of their last assignment appropriate.

 

“Once,” Napoleon said darkly, taking another drag on the cigarette. “…and you?”

 

Illya didn’t reply right away, he had heard that Napoleon had been married early on, but wasn’t aware of the details. “No, insanity runs in my family, remember.” An old joke from a previous affair, but it didn’t elicit the chuckle that he had expected. He pressed on. “Surely with all the women you’ve romanced, there must be at least one little Solo somewhere.”

 

Napoleon gazed up at the ceiling and finished the drink he held in his hand. “No, I took care of that likelihood early on, besides I left that sort of thing to my father,” he said cryptically.

 

Illya’s ears perked up, this was the first time Solo had ever mentioned his family, and his personal life was mostly a mystery to the Russian.

 

Almost as if he had been reading his partners thought’s Napoleon asked, “How long have we know each other?”

 

“Four years, going on five,” Illya answered after a moments thought. “You know that as well as I do.”

 

“And what do you know about me…” He waved his cigarette. “personally?”

 

Illya turned back to the bar and thought about it, then spared a small glance at his friend out of the corner of his eye. “One of your grandfathers was an Admiral, the other an Ambassador. You served in Korea, threw the javelin in college.” This remark got a small smile from his partner. “And were once married.” He held his breath, that last comment more a stab in the dark than anything.

 

Napoleon didn’t deny it. “That’s more than I would have thought and more than I know about you.”

 

Illya’s background was as much if not more of a mystery than Napoleon’s own and he planned on keeping it that way. Napoleon was being unusually morose this evening; he continued to take drags on his cigarette in between taking sips of his drink. Illya thought, as they sat there in silence for some time, that usually by this time Napoleon would have found some woman with which to pass the time.

 

Illya, looking down into his drink, decided to ask, “Why don’t you relieve yourself with one of the local beauties.” He turned in his chair, the better to watch Napoleon’s reaction.

 

Napoleon looked over at the only two females in the place. One of them had to weigh more than he did, and the other was extremely thin with no bust to speak of and missing teeth to boot. He shivered slightly in disgust: he wasn’t that desperate. He then let his gaze pass over to the bartender, a burly and filthy cuss, as a possibility and eliminated him as well. Then he looked at his partner.

 

Illya, held his breath.

 

Napoleon smiled grimly. “You don’t have to worry you know, I don’t fuck friends.”

 

Illya’s eyebrows rose.

 

“Unless asked,” Napoleon qualified his last statement.

 

Illya turned back, facing the bar while he mulled this over. “and if I did?” 

 

“You won’t,” Napoleon stated shortly.

 

Getting up from the table, cigarette in his mouth, Napoleon went behind the bar and grabbed a couple of bottles, leaving money on the counter. Enough to buy the whole place much less two bottles. He headed for their room. “Coming?” he asked not bothering to look to see if he was followed.

 

Illya considered it for a moment, and then finishing his drink got off the stool and trailed behind his partner. After making a cursory security check he turned to find his partner, sans jacket, reclining on the single bed in the room. He had lit another cigarette and was in the process of pouring another drink, his hands shaking slightly.

 

The room was extremely small with just the one bed and a small table. The only bath in the whole place was located outside the bar, and Illya considered it fortunate that it wasn’t outside. He leaned back against the door with his hands in his pocket not sure what to expect.

 

“Did I ever tell you about my sister?” Napoleon asked.

 

This question was completely out of left field, as section two agents were generally without families, it was considered best not to have anyone to who could be held hostage against them. “I wasn’t aware you had a sister,” he replied.

 

Napoleon was staring at the ceiling a grim look on his face. “Neither was I…at the time.” He focused his gaze on Illya. “You can sit on the bed, you know. It must be pretty uncomfortable just standing there.”

 

Illya thought about it before going to perch at the foot of the bed, his back turned away from his partner, tensed.

 

Napoleon just smirked before continuing, “We met at a football game and started going out.”

 

Illya turned back to look at his partner in surprise, Napoleon dating his sister?

 

“It gets worse,” Napoleon said answering the surprised look. “We were at the local version of lover’s lane and things had just started to…steam up, when my father showed up and pulled me out of the car.” He took another gulp of his drink before going on. “He was screaming at me…the jist of it being how dare I try fucking my own sister. I’d always thought I was an only child.”

 

“You didn’t know…?” Illya asked, illumination suddenly sinking in.

 

“Hell, no. I had no idea. Evidently her mother found out who she was going with and called my father. He’d been searching all over town.”

 

“Did he get there in time?” Illya was curious.

 

“Barely.” Napoleon smiled coldly. “I later asked if there were anymore surprises I should know about.” Taking another puff from his cigarette.

 

“And?” prodded Illya.

 

“And he said probably…” His laugh was bitter. There was no humor as he repeated, “probably.” He stubbed out the cigarette, before turning on his side, back to the center of the bed, ready to go to sleep.

 

Illya finally scooted up on the bed and turned his back to his partner, but he didn’t go to sleep.

 

Two days later, back at headquarters, Illya arrived to find his partner in conversation with several of the female personnel, joking and flirting as usual. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.

___________________________________

 

Months later they were back in Mexico, this time the cost of Baja, and other than the loss of everything but the clothes off their backs and their communicators they were fine. Tired but fine and mission accomplished. Their contact in UNCLE Mexico had directed them to a local hotel in the nearby resort town of Cabo San Lucas and they had made their way there. Napoleon checked them in while Illya leaned against the elevator catching up on a little sleep. If the clerk wondered why two men were checking in at nine o’clock at night without luggage, he didn’t say anything.

 

Waking Illya, Napoleon herded him into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor. With a great deal of weariness he put the key into the lock and entered the room UNCLE had reserved for them stopping short. A room with just one double bed, talk about déjà vu.

 

Illya stopped behind Solo and looked over his shoulder, “Humph,” he grunted. “I guess Waverly had been facing budget cuts again,” he muttered as he slid around his partner and began checking the room for bugs, reasoning that the sooner it was done the sooner he would be able to get to bed.

 

Napoleon walked across the room to the balcony that over looked the beach. He placed his arms wide on the railing looking down on the beach below. Stretching his neck muscles, he tried to figure out how to ask his question without doing any damage. He had never been quite sure of what he’d let slip that night. He’d been hot and tired and rot gut they called alcohol hadn’t helped.

 

“Illya?”

 

Illya looked up from his search. “What?”

 

“What did I say?”

 

Illya considered pretending not to understand. In the end he decided not to. “Don’t you remember?”

 

There was silence. Could it be that Napoleon really didn’t remember his conversation. It would explain a lot. “You mentioned your sister,” he threw out cautiously and heard an intake of breath.

 

Napoleon let his head drop as his gut twisted. Damn, that was something he’d sworn never to reveal and now Illya knew. He had to know. “What else?” he asked quietly.

 

Illya walked up behind him and just as quietly said, “You don’t fuck friends.”

 

Napoleon’s eyes widened and he wondered, had he really said that? He hoped that THRUSH never found out about that Mexican rotgut, it could put the current truth drugs out of business. He brushed past his partner without looking at him. “I’ve got to go.”

 

Illya watched Napoleon’s receding back as he left the room, and then looked down from the balcony to the beach and the women in their minuscule bikinis. Typical of Napoleon to spot a bit of fluff with which to spend time with. He passed it off with a shrug, at least he had first crack at the bathroom and maybe, just maybe, he’d leave some hot water for Napoleon.

 

Napoleon headed purposely down the hall toward the elevator, but once he got there he reconsidered and headed back, his mind in turmoil. As he paced back and forth down the hall, running his hand though his hair his thoughts turned to the fact that he himself was bisexual, he swung both ways, but Illya…he wasn’t sure if he swung at all. He could not…would not share this bed with his partner. His long held in control was fast eroding and he knew that to let his guard down would be the biggest mistake of his life. Finally he came to a stop and leaned against the wall next to the door to their room and slid down to the floor as exhaustion took over.

 

A freshly cleaned Russian, his hair damp, exited the bathroom as his stomach growled and he realized that he was more hungry than tired. He reluctantly redressed in the clothing he’d been wearing since he had nothing else. He drew the line at replacing his underwear, however, wishing that the shops downstairs were still open. He picked up the room key and was leaving when he tripped over his partner who was still lying outside the door. “What the…?” He started to check that Napoleon hadn’t been attacked when he heard snores. He squatted down to Napoleon’s level just out of reach should he wake up swinging. “Napoleon, what happened?” he teased. “Couldn’t you find anyone to pay with?”

 

Napoleon woke up with a start and rubbed his face with his hands, and saw his friend, eyes laughing, crouched near him.

 

“I’m going to get something to eat. Do you want to come along or would you rather finish your nap here?” Illya asked.

 

Eating seemed a safe enough activity but he decided not to risk it. He let Illya pull him up and open the door to their room, leaving him the key. His eyes followed Illya to the elevator that would take him to the restaurant downstairs. Closing the door, he leaned against it, wondering what he was going to do. Then he headed for the bathroom for a much needed shower. Leaving the bathroom, he put his slacks back on before collapsing on the bed.

 

________________________

 

Illya found a booth to the back at the restaurant and studied the menu. Should he try a local dish or something safe? Placing an order for vodka, he decided on going with the local cuisine. 

 

He was almost finished with his meal when he saw her. She was weaving her way between the tables. Soon she arrived at his booth and slid in beside him.

 

“Buonas noches, Senor,” she said in a sultry voice. “Perhaps you would like some company?” He looked at her face, he had thought that she might be eighteen, but revised it to more like sixteen on closer inspection.

 

“No, thank you,” he said politely, turning back to his drink.

 

She insinuated herself closer and ran her hand up his thigh. Her eyes widened with delight as she realized he was not wearing any underwear.

 

He gave her the look that sent fear through everyone…everyone that is except Solo, and pushed her hand away.

 

She gave him a pouty look. “So you are one of those,” she said before reluctantly getting up and leaving.

 

He frowned ‘one of those’ whats? Her touch had caused an involuntary reaction and it would be a while before he could get it under control. He was glad it was late and there were so few patrons left in the restaurant.

 

Leaving the elevator and heading for their room, Illya muttered some choice Russian curses to the effect that women couldn’t be trusted even at the best of times. As he came to the door he reached for the key only to remember that he had left it with Napoleon. He thought about banging on the door and waking his partner up to let him in. The possibility of disturbing their neighbors made him decide against it. He reached into his mouth and pulled out the piece of wire he kept there for just such emergencies as this. 

 

Opening the door he spotted Solo lying at the edge of the bed, one leg hanging over the side, oblivious to the fact that someone had just entered the room. He made a mental note to speak to him about it in the morning. He studied his partner, his eyes raking over the stretched-out body. The girl in the restaurant had been underage; Napoleon was not. Regretfully he went over to the other side of the bed and removed his shirt and belt and slipped off his shoes before sliding into the bed.

 

________________________

 

 

Napoleon awoke in the early morning hours to find his arms around a warm body. When he realized whose body it was he froze for a moment before deciding to pull him arm away only to find it held firmly in place.

 

“It’s cold,” the blonde Russian muttered. It was indeed cold, the climate having turned exceedingly chilly, and Napoleon’s body was very warm.

 

Napoleon bit his lower lip. “I could get us an extra blanket?” he offered quietly, though he made no move to get one.

 

Illya turned, still in his partner’s arms, to face him. Sapphire blue eyes met deep brown eyes and Illya was surprised by the guarded look he found there. He brought his hand lower to feel his partner’s arousal. 

 

“Do you realize I was almost seduced by an underage female last night?”

 

Napoleons eyebrows went up. Jailbait? “Ah, you didn’t?”

 

“Of course not, Napoleon,” he said exasperated. “But…I…am…only…human,” he said pushing down on the mattress to punctuate every word. Sometimes Napoleon could be so dense. He looked down at the American expectantly and finally threw up his hands, saying, “Bah,” before moving to sit at the edge of the bed, his back to his partner. He felt the mattress move as Napoleon got off the bed and turned to see him pull off his slacks and slide back into bed. He licked his lips unsure as how to proceed. He knew what his body wanted, no craved and he pulled off his t-shirt and shucked off his slacks before once again straddling his partner. 

 

Illya Kuryakin looked down at the man under him. Napoleon had not made any movement and his muscles were wound as tight as Illya had ever seen them. He was sure Napoleon wanted this; the evidence was trapped between their bodies. Why was he holding back? He ran his hands lightly down Napoleon’s arms, willing the tight muscles to relax. When he got to the hands he forced them open and intertwined his fingers with them before pulling them up to either side of Napoleon’s head. “Should we cut to the chase?” he asked, his head canted to one side, amusement showing in his eyes.

 

“You’re in charge,” Napoleon replied lightly, deciding to go with the flow.

 

Anticipation caused his breath to come in small gasps, so the slight Russian paused to get control before he swiftly once, twice, thrice gently touched Napoleon’s lips with his. He was rewarded when Napoleon’s head followed his as he pulled away, trying to recapture his lips. Mentally he smiled. His partner was slowly coming around, so he proceeded to mouth the area of Napoleon’s neck as it arched before attacking Napoleon’s mouth with a vengeance. 

 

Napoleon was not inactive. He looked at the lips he had long coveted as he ran his hands down the Russian’s body. He moved his legs so that Illya could rest his body more comfortably between them. Moving so he was stretched out things escalated as their groins thrusting against one another and the pleasure brought about gasps and moans. Soon needs took over and caution vanished. When he had a free moment he brought his own mouth to Illya’s neck and sucked hard as he came, knowing it would probably leave a bruise for days to come. It was just after that Illya stiffened and followed him into oblivion.

 

________________________

 

Illya woke to find himself alone. It had been years since he’d let himself give in to the physical needs he sometimes had. Dressing quickly he searched the room, before glancing out the window and spying a lone figure standing, his hands in his pockets, at the end of the pier. He thought to analyze what had happened last night and gave up with a sigh. In this resort town it was rare to see someone in a suit out on the beach. But as this was the off-season there were few people to notice.

 

Solo stood there, a light breeze blowing, and watched the sun come up, grateful that there were so few people around to disturb the tranquility. He had been feeling far from tranquil and a bit more than a little angry with himself. He should have been able to control his growing need, his desire to….what?…use his partner? He cared more for him - too much perhaps - to do that. He heard footsteps coming down the pier behind him and knew who it was without having to look.

 

“Napoleon, we need to talk,” Illya said as he came close and stood behind to him.

 

 

Napoleon closed his eyes and tried to get his feelings under control. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “What happened last night can never happen again.”

 

“Why?” Illya asked earnestly as he lightly touched the sleeve of Napoleon’s jacket.

 

Napoleon turned his head to look into clear blue eyes and said fiercely, “We’re playing with fire.” Then looking away added, “and if we’re not careful we’ll get burned.” He pulled out his cigarettes and started to light one only to have it taken away and thrown into the sea.

 

“So, we’ll be careful.” Illya was determined. “You speak as if from experience.”

 

Napoleon’s eyes hardened. He’d given away one secret and he was damned if he’d give away another. “Let’s just drop it.”

 

“No!” Illya said sharply, his eyes were ablaze as he grabbed Napoleon’s arm and turned him towards him.

 

“It’s too dangerous,” Napoleon insisted.

 

“Our line of business is dangerous. Besides it’s only sex.” Illya ran his hand through his hair as his mind cast around trying to come up with something, anything that would change Napoleon’s mind. 

 

“I’m surprised at you, Illya. I wouldn’t have thought you’d want…” Napoleon started.

 

“Want?” The Russian answered fiercely as he turned away. “I realize I do not require…that I’m not as…”

 

“Horny?” Napoleon supplied.

 

Illya nodded. It wasn’t the right word but it would do. “There are times.” He paused before continuing. “I cannot trust as you do. I can’t just hop into bed with anyone like you manage to. For me that would be dangerous.”

 

Illya, enigma that he was, was surprising him. “So what are you suggesting?” Was Illya saying he trusted him enough for this?

 

“We could think of it as another assignment.” Illya insisted. “And possibly use code names.”

 

Napoleon shook his head slowly. Could it be that simple? He smiled. “Don’t you mean affairs?” He frowned. They shouldn’t be considering this.

 

“You are having second thoughts, my friend?” Illya asked gently as they both gazed out at the ocean.

 

Napoleon swallowed before answering, “Second, third and fourth.”

 

“Did you not enjoy last night?” Illya asked turning to look at his partner.

 

“Yes, may god help my soul, yes.” Looking to the sky for answers Napoleon sighed as he realized he finally had to tell the truth.

 

“Then I do not see the problem,” Illya said with a shrug. “How long have we known each other? What do you know about me,” he waved his hand. “personally?”

 

Napoleon bit back a smile. He remembered uttering the same words six months earlier. “Code names?” Napoleon asked thoughtfully as the unease about what they were planning faded.

 

Illya nodded. “I was thinking along the line of Emperor and Czar?” They had used those names before and he was confident this could work. “We could use military time and coordinates.” He waved his hands to get his point across; sure Napoleon would be able to follow his train of thought.

 

“Coordinates? Hmmm, and a drop?” Napoleon nodded actually getting into the spirit of this.

 

Silence reigned as they both thought before saying at the same time, “Map room.”

 

Napoleon looked at Illya one eyebrow raised. “Are you sure…?”

 

“Would I be so…insistent if I were not?” Illya shrugged.

 

“You’re cute when you beg.” Napoleon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

 

Illya glared at him. “I’m not begging. I’m just saying it could be…fun.”

 

“What if THRUSH were to find out?” Napoleon asked cautiously.

 

“Never mind THRUSH. What about Waverly?” Illya responded lightly, feeling almost giddy now that Napoleon was agreeable.

 

“Oh, I don’t think he’d care,” Napoleon assured him.

 

“It’s not like we’ll be doing it on a daily basis,” Illya continued with reason. “Only when one of us…”

 

“Is horny?” Napoleon threw out.

 

“Feels the need,” Illya finished. What was he thinking? With Napoleon’s sexual appetite it could well be a daily thing. “Forgive me, I forgot who I was talking to,” he said dryly.

 

Napoleon let out a chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep it down to a minimum. 

 

“You know, I would never have thought you would be interested in sex just for sex,” Napoleon pointed out.

 

“What can I say, Napoleon, I have worked with you for too long.”

 

Napoleon moved aside the collar of Illya’s shirt to reveal the bruise that was starting to show. “You’re going to need to wear your turtleneck shirts for a while,” he remarked with a smirk. 

 

Illya brushed aside his hand and tightened his tie to cover up the hicky. “I fully intend to return the favor.”

 

“We’re fools you know.” Napoleon was still hesitant.

 

“Then we are fools together,” Illya pointed out. “Besides, Napoleon, I have coveted your body for quite a while.”

 

This brought a slow small to Napoleon’s face.

 

Sounds of more footsteps caused both men to tense as they turned. A young Mexican, immaculately dressed in a white suit, was walking toward them. As he came to a stop he smiled. “Buenos días. I am Manuel Gonzales of U.N.C.L.E. Baja. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Senors Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin?”

 

Both men nodded as they relaxed their tensed muscles.

 

Gonzales reached into his jacket pocket and brought out two envelopes. “I have here two tickets for New York. You are both wanted back ASAP. I am sorry there is no time for you to get fresh clothing,” he said apologetically. “Your flight leaves in one hour and I have taken the liberty of checking you out. Buena suerte, gentlemen.” He turned and walked away.

 

The two agents checked their envelopes for the tickets and cash they contained. Napoleon slapped his in the palm of his hand and looked at his partner, suppressing a sigh. It appeared that it was going to be business as usual.

 

 

A Dark Night in Mexico - Alternate ending.

 

It was a dark and dreary night and the two agents were stranded in a dingy motel in a remote area of Mexico. The mission had gone badly and a young child had paid the price with his life.

 

The lighting in the bar was so dim you could barely see the glass in front of you. Solo sat at a table, his chair tipped back and his legs propped on the table. He was drinking God only knew what, the choices being fairly limited. His suit had lost much of its nattiness and his tie was loosened enough so that the top button of his shirt could be undone. There was a bottle on the table, along with an ashtray, and he reached for it to refill his glass as he took a puff from his cigarette.

 

His partner was sitting nearby at the bar, he too was drinking, though not as much as his friend. He turned to watch as Solo took another drag of his cigarette and slowly blew smoke rings. “Have you ever thought about having children?” he asked. A strange question you might wonder, but on the heel of their last assignment appropriate.

 

“Once,” Napoleon said darkly, taking another drag on the cigarette, “and you?”

 

Illya didn’t reply right away, he had heard that Napoleon had been married early on, but wasn’t aware of the details. “No, insanity runs in my family, remember.” An old joke from a previous affair, but it didn’t elicit the chuckle that he had expected. He pressed on. “Surely with all the women you’ve romanced, there must be at least one little Solo somewhere.”

 

Napoleon gazed up at the ceiling and finished the drink he held in his hand. “No, I took care of that likelihood early on, besides I left that sort of thing to my father,” he said cryptically.

 

Illya’s ears perked up, this was the first time Solo had ever mentioned his family, and his personal life was mostly a mystery to the Russian.

 

Almost as if he had been reading his partners thought’s Napoleon asked, “How long have we know each other?”

 

“Four years, going on five,” Illya answered after a moments thought. “You know that as well as I do.”

 

“And what do you know about me…” he waved his cigarette. “personally?”

 

Illya turned back to the bar and thought about it, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye. “One of your grandfathers was an Admiral, the other an Ambassador. You served in Korea, threw the javelin in college. ” This got a small smile from his partner. “And were once married.” That last more a stab in the dark than anything.

 

Napoleon didn’t deny it. “That’s more than I would have thought and more than I know about you.”

 

Illya’s background was more of a mystery than Napoleon’s own and he planned on keeping it that way. Napoleon was being unusually morose this evening; he continued to take drags on his cigarette in between taking sips of his drink. Illya thought, as they sat there in silence for sometime, and that usually by this time Napoleon would have found some woman with which to pass the time.

 

Illya, looking down into his drink, decided to ask, “Why don’t you relieve yourself with one of the local beauties?” Watching Napoleon’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

 

Napoleon looked over at the only two females in the place. One of them had to weigh more than he did, and the other was extremely thin with no bust to speak of and missing teeth to boot. He shivered slightly is disgust, he wasn’t that desperate. He then let his gaze pass over to the bartender, a burley filthy cuss, as a possibility and eliminated him as well. Then he looked at his partner.

 

Illya, holding his breath, could feel his gaze on him and turned his head to return it.

 

Napoleon smiled grimly. “You don’t have to worry you know, I don’t fuck friends.”

 

Illya’s eyebrows rose.

 

“Unless asked,” Napoleon qualified his last statement.

 

Illya mulled this over. “And if I did?” Keeping his eyes facing the bar.

 

“You won’t,” Napoleon stated shortly.

 

Getting up from the table, cigarette in his mouth, Napoleon went behind the bar and grabbed a couple of bottles, leaving money on the counter. Enough to buy the whole place much less two bottles. He headed for their room, “Coming?” he asked not bothering to look to see if he was followed.

 

Illya considered it for a moment, and then finishing his drink got off the stool and trailed behind his partner. After making a cursory security exam he turned to find his partner, sans jacket, reclining on the single bed in the room. He had lit another cigarette and was in the process of pouring another drink, his hands shaking slightly.

 

The room was extremely small with just the one bed and a small table. The only bath in the whole place was outside the bar, and Illya felt lucky it wasn’t outside. He leaned back against the door with his hands in his pocket not sure what to expect.

 

He focused his gaze on Illya. “You can sit on the bed, you know. It must be pretty uncomfortable just standing there.”

 

Illya thought about it before going to perch at the foot of the bed, his back tensed to his partner. “Perhaps you’ve had enough to drink?” 

 

Napoleon looked at the bottle in his hand. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said before throwing the bottle at the door smashing it. Without another word, he turned his back to his partner and fell into a dejected sleep.

 

Illya finally scooted up on the bed, and looked at the ceiling, his mind in a quandary.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Napoleon’s hands, hands that had killed many a THRUSH agent, touching him. He felt the bed shake as Napoleon turned over facing him in sleep. He went back to imagining all the places his partner could be touching, and couldn’t help noticing the slight smile that appeared on Napoleon’s face.

 

He frowned, and decided to run an experiment. He concentrated hard, imagining all the things he could be doing to Napoleon, and to his amazement Napoleon smile turned into a satisfied grin. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the thing that passed for a pillow and whacked his partner on the face.

 

Napoleon popped awake muttering, “What the hell.”

 

“How long have you been able to read my mind,” Illya demanded.

 

Turning away Napoleon muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Illya leaned over and pinched his partner hard. “How long.”

 

“Ow, don’t do that.” Napoleon snapped.

 

Illya pinched again. “How long,” he repeated.

 

“From the beginning,” Napoleon said quietly.

 

“And you can do this with everyone, yes?” Illya wanted to know.

 

Napoleon turned and looked his partner in the face. “No, if I could, do you think we’d get captured as much as we do? Strictly speaking I don’t ‘read’ your mind; I can just sense certain….feelings.”

 

“Oh, and just what are you sensing now?” Illya asked disgruntled.

 

Napoleon concentrated. “Anger, which is why I never told you, and…” he reached over and pulled Illya close before covering his mouth with a gentle kiss.

 

Illya took hold of Napoleon’s face with his hands and deepened the kiss. “What am I feeling now? You said something about, what was it, only if asked.”

 

“Are you asking?” Napoleon posed softly.

 

“No, Napoleon, I’m telling.” 

 

THE END


End file.
